


White Chocolate Mocha

by Outerstellar (scoopsie)



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, this is my first work dont hurt me uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:11:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15065873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoopsie/pseuds/Outerstellar
Summary: Tord was having the best day he's had in a while! Even the barista at the nearby coffee shop was cute, if only he wasn't a total jerk.





	White Chocolate Mocha

Tord’s eyes shoot open at seven in the morning, and for some reason, he feels actually refreshed. It could be the sleep schedule he’s been keeping it for a week, or it could be how he changed his alarm sound to a song he likes. Either way, he wakes up with a legitimate enjoyment of life instead of the usual bitterness, which is a nice change. He gets out of bed and gets ready for the day ahead of him, which starts with his first class of the day at nine. 

Getting ready has honestly never been such a pleasantry for Tord, but today is a little different. He’s singing in the shower with an apparent newly found passion for Hot n Cold by Katy Perry, a complete turn around from fake arguments and defending his enjoyment of hentai. He also made his bed, something only well kept and responsible adults do, so he obviously has been hit over the head with a shovel or something because this is not normal behavior. 

After getting fully dressed and ready for the day, it's only 8:30, so Tord decides to carry on his good mood and go grab a coffee from the shop on the way to class.

Immediately after entering the shop, it's like one person took up the whole room. Tord’s vision was instantly taken up by one smug-looking hottie behind the counter. He couldn't take his eyes off him even if he tried, and every step he took just reduced the chances Tord could look away. When he made his way to the counter he was completely reveling in the baristas attractiveness. He had dark eyes that made you think you could lose yourself in the pure void of his stare, brown hair that made him appear taller than he really is, and an insanely charming smirk that was just demanding that all the attention is on him. And Tord was more than glad to give it to him. What the barista said, however, was like a splash of cold water waking Tord up from daydreaming.

“I would ask what you want, but it seems like you’re already drooling from staring at me.” That was the thing that brought Tord back to the land of the living and realized he was definitely holding up a line. He scrambled to look over the menu quickly and tried to keep as much composure as possible when responding.

“Sorry, your face just makes me irritated. Also, you got some cream on your cheek.” Now it was the barista’s turn to be a little flustered and rush to wipe some cream off his cheek. “But yes, I would like a grande white chocolate mocha.” Tord glanced at the name tag on the barista’s apron, taking a mental note that his name is Tom.

“No worries, your face makes me really angry as well. I just can’t show it or else I’ll be fired,” Oh, okay, Tom. Way to be straight to the point. “That’ll be $4.80, can I get a name for your order?” He asks while smirking, so Tord’s head just goes blank for a second before registering what he was asking. 

“Oh, uh, Tord.” That wasn’t too bad, right? Nothing worse than being flustered when you’re trying to be the confident gay here. 

“Okay, Ohuh Torb, your order will be out in a second, wait anywhere you’d like, but preferably out of my eyesight so I don’t have to look at you.” Wow, okay that was a little rude. First of all, its TORD not TORB, and did he HAVE to add his stutter on his name? That’s kinda childish. Not to mention that he said that he didn’t even want to look at Tord’s face? After that Tord’s attitude deflated a bit. Not enough to completely dampen his mood, but it was pretty significant compared to this morning. He decided to just go sit at a two-person table near the counter to wait. 

After a couple minutes, a very confused, but deadpan voice called out “Ohuh Torb? Your order is ready,” And Tord got up and went to go get his drink. Once he picked it up, though, he almost dropped it and spilled it everywhere when he looked at Tom, who happened to be staring at him with a mischievous smile on his face. Uh oh, even from having only one exchange with him, he knew that smile could only mean trouble. 

“I hope your drink tastes like someone shat in it, Torb.” Oh, that was the breaking point. Tord’s grip on the poor drink tightened, and he stomped over to Tom with the grumpiest look he could manage. 

“Its Tord. And get fucked.” Tom’s jaw goes slack, and Tord huffs. Tord leaves the coffee shop and continues to class, mood exceptionally dampened from before he entered.

-

It was about a week later before Tord went back to the coffee shop. He just pulled an all-nighter to finish an essay that was due before he goes to class at nine in the morning. Keeping this in mind, there’s a very valid reason on why he goes to the coffee shop this morning. Totally not because he also wants to see Tom again. Okay, maybe he does, but what about it? There’s nothing wrong with going to a shop to pine over a staff member, even if he is exceptionally rude to him. Tord may be a little bit masochistic for this, even more so since there’s no way in hell Tom is pining over him the same way Tord is. With this, Tord enters the establishment with nothing but extremely low expectations of customer service. 

After the chimes on the door rings and everything comes into view, Tord’s vision is once again drawn to Tom behind the counter immediately. It seems like Tom sees Tord as well if you’re counting a smirk and a glance as recognition. He watches Tom tell another staff member something which sends them scrambling to the coffee machine. Tord walks over to the counter to order, but Tom hushes him with one finger before he says a word.

“I already told Matt to make you a white chocolate mocha. Let’s talk.” Just from 13 words, Tord’s eyes widened and chills were sent down his spine. The effect he had on him was unbelievable, and this was just their second encounter. Hopefully, sometime in the future, the tables will be turned, and Tom will be able to feel what Tord’s feeling right now. 

“Talk about what, the impending doom of civilization because of late capitalism and the free market? I just want my coffee, I don’t want to talk to your rude ass.” Tord tried to make his face contort to be as mean and grumpy as possible, but it seemed to be funny enough to Tom that he let out a small chuckle. 

“You’re funny, you know that? It's a good quality! It makes up for your horrid personality, and your habit of shitting on people you just met.” The other employee (Matt?) hands a cup of coffee to Tom, which he writes a name on and types something into the computer. “That’s gonna be $4.80, by the way. We’re a restaurant, not a charity.” He winks at that last part, and Tord forgets everything he just said because holy shit he forgot his eyes were that pretty. They’re so dark it could be counted as black. Tord can’t even tell where his pupils are. “You get that? $4.80, pay up.” Tom motions his hand to be open in front of Tord, and he realizes quickly what he was doing and starts fishing in his wallet for a five. He stayed there for a second, expecting two dimes in return, but Tom just gives him his coffee. “I’m keeping the change. Call it a fee for having to hear you speak.” 

Tord, reluctantly getting used to Tom’s manner of speaking, just sighed, took his coffee, and left the shop for the second time. With a white chocolate mocha for the second time. However, this will not be the last time. Tom and Tord both know this, and Tord’s visits become more and more frequent. From once a week, to twice a week, to three times a week, to almost every single day. Tord’s wallet and bank account are becoming completely dry because he’s spending $5 a day on a coffee. Mentioning this to Tom on his 8th visit, he calls Tord a “jobless fuck” and backhandedly tells him he’ll pay for his coffee from now on. Throughout all these visits though, neither of them have given out any way of contacting each other outside of the shop. Of course, Tord has thought about it, but frankly, he’s afraid Tom wouldn’t talk to him outside of the shop. This is the only excuse he has to talk to the barista. Or, was. 

On the 17th visit, Tom calls Tord a “greedy bitch” a little too loudly, and it apparently caught the ear of a very formidable looking staff member. Which Tord can only assume is a manager. After that visit, Tord hasn’t seen Tom at the coffee shop. He increased the number of times he went to every single day of the week he could. He even went more than once a day at sometimes, to see if they just moved his shift, though he knows that isn't the case. It's always Matt who greets him at the counter every visit, and sometimes the occasional brunette in green, whose name Tord has not bothered to remember. 

What hasn’t changed, even without Tom there, is that every time he visits, his drink is always paid for, always made right when he walks into the shop, always a white chocolate mocha, and always with his name spelled as “Torb”. It's funny. It’s almost like Tom is still here, but Tord knows he isn't. He asked the first day he didn’t see him there. Matt said he got fired for unsatisfactory customer service. Tord has no reason to go there every single day, but he does anyway. With the slight, slight hope that maybe, just maybe Tom will be there. Smirking at him when Tord walks through the door, insulting him when he has done nothing other than existing, subtly flirting just to make Tord flustered and angry. It's been weeks since that, and Tord has begun to feel empty again. His white chocolate mocha tasting as bitter as ever without a blue jerk to sweeten it up. 

-

Tord doesn’t stop going to the coffee shop. He knows he should, and he knows its been 2 months since Tom has been there, but he can’t stop going. He doesn’t talk to anyone there. All he does is come in, greet Matt or Edd (the brunette in green), take his coffee, and walk out the door. Sometimes he takes the time to study in there, or read a book, but after about an hour, it ends up becoming too suffocating with memories he can’t focus, so he leaves. This shop has become part of Tord’s routine. A habit he can’t get out of, so he doesn’t. He keeps going back, hoping maybe this time will be different. Maybe this is what insanity is. Doing the same thing repeatedly, and hoping for a different result every time. Perhaps Tord’s insane then. He doesn’t care, he just wants to stare into those dark eyes again, listen to that annoying chuckle again, see Tom again. And Tord gets his wish.

It must have been 3 months since Tom was fired when Tord was in the laundromat, waiting for his last load of laundry to dry. It was nine in the morning on a Saturday, and he was slowly sipping the white chocolate mocha he got before coming here. He was sitting on a bench absentmindedly scrolling through his phone when the doors chimed open. The noise makes Tord look to the door, and what he sees is something he would never have guessed to see again. Tom, in a blue hoodie and black jeans, staring with his mouth wide open at Tord. It seems he dropped his bag of laundry too, judging from it being on the floor. Tord is frozen in place. Should he stand up? Should he go say hi? Ask for his number? Or did he not want to talk to him? Questions are buzzing in his mind, and Tord doesn’t see Tom walk over coolly and sit down next to Tord. He’s only brought out of his trance when Tom says something.

“Never thought I’d see your ugly mug again. Glad I did though, the look on your face was worth all those coffees.” Tord whips his head to Tom, which in hindsight, was a bad idea. Now Tord is seeing Tom’s face up close and personal, and it's definitely sending the butterflies in his stomach wild. Something clicks then, though. What does he mean it was worth all those coffees? Does he mean…?

“Did you pay for all of those? I thought it was a business, not a charity?” Tord smiled slyly on that one. Getting back at Tom was something he always wanted to do. Catching him off his guard was a close second, though. And thankfully, with that, Tom avoided Tord’s stare, and question, and decided the tiles had a very interesting mix of blue and white until he cleared his throat.

“Well, yeah, I told you I would, didn’t I? And it was business because at least someone paid for it.” Tom looked at Tord again, with something different in his eyes this time. It wasn’t the usual mischief or confident look, but it was a look of covert vulnerability. Had Tom really been thinking about him this whole time? 

Tom’s gaze shifted downwards to Tord’s hands, and a small smile grew on his face. He looked back up at Tord and reached for something in his laundry bag. Tom took out a pen, took Tord’s nearly empty cup of coffee, and began to write something on the side of it. Tord stared at him quizzically, shifting his line of sight from Tom, to the cup, and back. After a couple seconds, Tom hands Tord back the cup, and he looks at what he wrote. A phone number comes into view, and Tord’s just as surprised to see it as he is to hear his machine finishing its cycle. They both turn to look at the dryer, and then look back at each other, both letting out a small laugh. 

“I guess I’ll contact you soon, you shouldn’t be busy right? You know with you being completely jobless and all.” Tom hits him (not so) lightly in the arm for that one.

“I have a job, I’m the head barista at the café a couple streets down. How do you think I manage to pay for your coffee every day?” He did have a point. If he was jobless he would have stopped paying for his coffee when he got fired, but he didn’t, and that’s what matters right now.

“Maybe I’ll come to visit you someday. Got kinda lonely not seeing your excuse for a face for a while.” Tord stands up and collects his dry clothes, which consist of a lot of red, and head towards the door. Opening the door, he looks back at Tom, face still adorned with a small, genuine smile for once. Tord smiles himself, letting it reach his eyes for the first time in a long time. “See you later, fucker. Thanks for the coffee.” The door closes behind him, and the one that opens might be the start of something great.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fanfiction I've written, but I will appreciate criticism on my writing so I can get better! Thank you for reading!!


End file.
